Review: The Presence of Wool

REVIEW: The Presence of Wool

Brave New Works 26

Review Performance: 2 November 2019

By Carl Heslop

The Presence of Wool was remounted at Denmark Arts Brave New Works #26, allowing audiences the chance to see Sym Parr’s contemporary dance work one more time. Premiering earlier this year in a shearing shed, The Presence of Wool was adapted to the Denmark Civic Centre with a few line-up changes allowing some Denmark cameos. The Civic Centre lacks the atmospheric elements of its original setting, but this remount still provided an intriguing and engaging experience. The Presence of Wool was performed as the closing piece of the Motion Triptych trilogy of works alongside John Carberry’s film Ameliorer Resolve IV and Nari Lee’s Waterways.

The dance piece wove complex gestural patterns with machine-like characteristics together with a softness in costume and lighting and the signature complexity of James Gentle’s soundscapes. There was a worker-like intensity to the task at hand, from ensemble as the piece evolved from mundane workplace interactions and homages, to the rituals of the mill, to frenzied entanglement and then ghostly dream-like sequences.

Photo: Nic Duncan via Facebook

The Presence of Wool opened to a projection of the woollen mills on the backdrop screen and the echoes of the past provided by tales from workers of the mill, delicately entwined with Gentle’s exploratory sounds. The core ensemble, dressed in costumes nodding to the 1950’s, move across the stage organising, chatting, interacting with nonchalance and a lack of urgency, before forming into machine-like spooling and weaving. Jessica Hesford and Rita Bush are central within the ensemble through this early piece, with transfixing accuracy of movement and presence.

Pic: Tasty Beacon via Facebook

The youth contingent takes the stage to further highlight the presence of wool, from their beautiful patchwork costumes to the tangled spools of wool, the group collect and wrap around each other until one single dancer is wrapped, web-like in the wool. A dramatic and precarious solo of struggle with a soundscape of rising desperation. For the duration of the solo I was convinced one of these strands of wool would bring down the dancer, watching on with trepidation and hope until the choreographed exhaustion and struggle was what brought them down.

Pic: Tasty Beacon via Facebook

From the quiet dripping water and frogs in the soundscape, a cocoon emerges in front of us. Obscured in plain-sight by the proceeding action and intensity, this creature is suddenly alive and moving. Flexing and straining with a visceral quality, limbs appear and disappear until the quivering object releases a dancer who takes flight.

The intensity rises as this almost beautiful creature begins to rhythmically thrash. Encapsulating the incredibly talented Bush, the patterns and shapes this being was able to generate through its movement was thoroughly satisfying visually. Despite knowing there was only one dancer left inside, there were moments it took shape to suggest there were more; the combination of costume and movement tricking the brain.

Pic: Tasty Beacon via Facebook

The Civic Centre lacks a little in ambiance and atmosphere, and some technical difficulties popped up, but the cast were committed to doing the original season justice in this remount. The Presence of Wool was transfixing and intriguing. There were moments of uneasiness and uncertainty, wonderful interplays between the soundscape, choreography and the wool costumes. There was a sense of satisfaction in the experience and I left still thinking about that multi-limbed creature and its ability to hold ghost dancers within it.

This review was published in Denmark Bulletin No. 995 November 14 and is reproduced with permission. Thanks for the support Denmark Bulletin! You can check out their latest edition here

The Author of this review paid for their own ticket to the performance and was not paid to write this review.

Shout me a coffee

Enjoyed what you've read here on the 'Grind? Keep me careering towards my PhD completion and churning out content along the way by donating a coffee to me!

A$4.00

Review: Waterways

REVIEW: WATERWAYS

Brave New Works 26

Review Performance: 2 November 2019

By Carl Heslop

Waterways is a community contemporary dance work created by Nari Lees that was performed in the Denmark Civic Centre as part of the Denmark Arts Brave New Works #26. This work builds on Lee’s previous work on the Waterways project and Global Water Dance in June 2019, and developed choreography with community members. It was performed as the opening piece of the Motion Triptych trilogy of works alongside John Carberry’s film Ameliorer Resolve IV and Sym Parr’s remount of The Presence of Wool.

Waterways brought large numbers of community dancers of all ages together to explore their connection with water the frictions and energy within that interaction.

The work captured lived experiences of performers and built a multilayered performance that incorporated high quality video, an original audio score, voice and song, and a multitude of movements to offer a rich and immersive environment. The complex soundscape created by Jeremy Hick and Marlu Harris changed and progressed through the performance; melodic at times, discordant at others, but always intricate and layered.

Anne Sorenson. Photo: Shoon Arts

The performance opened with the wide sand plains of a dry Denmark Inlet projected onto the background screen accompanied by Anne Sorenson sliding down the specially constructed wooden ramp, plunging us into the experience.

Lees used complex, yet subtle staging techniques within Waterways and played with the established stage and set design by augmenting it with reflective materials, a projector screen that doubled as a shadow screen, hanging and loose fabrics. The wooden ramp cleverly connected the raised stage and floor and was used regularly through the performance to transition dancers.

Groups of families with small children delivered individual scores that spoke to the water theme, coming onto the stage to briefly deliver a vignette or snapshot of a memory, before flowing off stage and being replaced by the next wave of performers. There were moments I yearned for a family group to linger longer but would be endeared to the next group as they appeared.

A combination of performers, a community, parents and children. Photo: Shoon Arts

The main ensemble worked through various movement scores, walking patterns and echoes of the family scores that showed clear connection and flow to the watery theme. There were moments of synchronicity and moments of syncopation that were clearly reminiscent of the relationships between ripples, waves and swells.

The ensemble was a collection of new and familiar faces to the Denmark dance scene, with all displaying a strong commitment to the task at hand within their own talents. Marie Kerr provided a strong stage presence within the ensemble with equal parts technical ability and charisma, while Tanya Garvin’s monologue was powerful and moving.

A youth ensemble that has worked with Lees for several years delivered a tender and engaged score utilising a large sheet of fabric that rippled and fluttered with their movement. This section highlighted the group’s development and demonstrated a bold step away from familiar bombastic movement languages and into a more considered dance style.

Waterways worked its way through the multitude of scores before winding down from swirling walking patterns, to movements showing the vulnerability of the ritual of washing, before a tinkering and melancholic soundscape brought the ensemble together in a touching embrace.  

Main ensemble. Photo: Shoon Arts

Waterways was a brave and immersive experience. Melding complex ideas, images and components together in a single community dance performance with such a diverse cast certainly constitutes a brave new work, and Lee’s commitment to inclusivity is a strength of her practice.

Vulnerability, power, playfulness and connection were on show throughout and Lees should be proud of the production quality of the performance and its dancers.   

This review was published in Denmark Bulletin No. 995 November 14 and is reproduced with permission. Thanks for the support Denmark Bulletin! You can check out their latest edition here

The Author of this review paid for their own ticket to the performance and was not paid to write this review.

Shout me a coffee

Enjoyed what you've read here on the 'Grind? Keep me careering towards my PhD completion and churning out content along the way by donating a coffee to me!

A$4.00

The original publication in the Denmark Bulletin

A Useful Skeleton: a Thing of Beauty

Every dancer has their forte and my Creative Director, Annette Carmichael was just highlighting mine. Sure some can spin and leap and have amazing flexibility – but I was in possession of a “very useful skeleton!”

“Just let him jump on to you, don’t try and catch him”. Simple instruction. Focus. I tried to relax as Scott again tried to put his right leg over my left shoulder and gracefully leap on to my useful skeleton. We were at the start of our intensive journey together. We had a week to recreate the duet in The Beauty Index.

43758095_1809841072467707_1301554706220318720_o

The duet we were working on was a core part of the performance and the source of a lot of adulation and adoration (and the best photos) in the original performance. For the remount, I was assuming a part held by the very talented Sam le Breton last time around. This was my second time as part of a production and to say the rise was giddying is to put it lightly.

23275693_1427434020708416_4423171472953715642_o

In the months after Annette confirmed that we were getting (most of) the band back together to remount “our” work, The Beauty Index, I had worked incredibly hard to get myself fit. I wanted to hit “the Sixty” so much harder this time around, so there were months of weights and fitness classes in the lead up to our first rehearsal. I was going to tear my old role apart! As performers, we all held a lot of ownership in the work – being involved in so much of the original choreography had elevated our sense of engagement in the piece – all those who were returning wanted to lift this remount higher than the original. Never mind the fact that we were opening up for a group of flexible, talented young people as part of a two-show bill. Our pride was at stake!

At the first rehearsal back, Annette told us that Sam would not be able to come back and perform in the remount. This meant someone could come forward – or someone would be tapped to step up. I though about this for a while. Last year was my first time dancing on stage. I was not sure I was up for the physicality of the role. I refrained from stepping forward and committed to thinking about it. There were serious doubts.

I got home and there was a missed call from Annette and a message. Would I step in to Sam’s role? Would I perform the solo? The duet with Scott Elstermann? Play such a key role in the performance? I sat on the couch and stared at my phone. I was a lot fitter than last year – but could I actually do it? The performing? Holding the audience? It is a role that demands intensity and focus. I walked in to the kitchen and asked Jas what she thought. We chatted. Was I comfortable? Was I capable? Was I up for the challenge?

I messaged Annette: “Just got your message. I’m keen”.

Mind is keen, body is….

Annette and I went through details, organised rehearsal schedules, chorography, scores, musical cues. I was bursting with excitement. We had a series of one-on-one rehearsals scheduled to nail down the gruelling solo early. Annette was sick for a rehearsal, so I decided to head in alone and work through some dancing. About forty minutes in to the session, I leant forward innocuously, and my breath left me. Pain surged through my chest – wrapping around me like two hot wires stretching around me from between my shoulders – one around my chest, one down my spine. This was bad. My back was screaming.

I chatted with the physio after my second session with him. It had been two weeks. I’d been swimming as often as I could to free up my back. I was still in pain but recovering. He reassured me I would be fine for the dancing– it was probably a 4-6 week injury, so I was ok to ease back in to things. Six weeks had me up to the last week before working with Scott. Five days of intense rehearsals – two hours a day with Scott, two hours with the rest of the cast. There was not a lot of wriggle room if I pinged it again – but I had an entire show to re-learn, a solo to master and a duet to prepare for. There was not time to rest. Only time to recover.

There were weeks of hot and cold packs. Intense stretching. Intense hope that my fitness work before rehearsals would leave me in good stead to not just recover but be at performance standard. As the performance inched forward, my back freed up increasingly and I was able to perform more of the choreography with an improved range of motion. I would hopefully be fine. Hopefully.

20180813_162921_1
Screaming on the beach. Totes normal

A box, the corner of the shed

One week of intense rehearsals with a professionally trained dancer is a privilege that my football playing, punk rock loving teenage self would never have considered, but here I was. Warm-ups were a treat. Led by some woman who I begrudgingly met in Broome six years ago as I was dragged for an obligation (the incredible, hilarious and talented Sandi Woo) we explored space, movement, our body.

img_20181012_182334_614
The Woo Technique

Scott and I worked on our connection as dancers. How to work together. I was in a space that many professional dancers would’ve happily traded for. We worked hard in warm ups to learn how each other moved (well, Scott learned how I moved, I learnt how to move). In footy parlance, we trained bloody hard.

44324865_1818309104954237_7647821605678088192_o
Scott leaping on the waiting #usefulskeleton (Pic: Alison Bennett-Taylor)

We worked and worked. I slowly got more and more of the details and nuances I needed. Not all, I never got it 100% there – but that is the beauty of working with someone like Annette. No matter how good I got it down, there was the next way to improve. It wasn’t meant to be good enough. It needed to be the best I could do it. And finding that best takes exploration and improvement right up to the final time I did it on stage.

Performance mode

bts_nic-duncan-066
Acting calm (Pic: Nic Duncan)

We did two shows for this remount – a Friday and a Saturday night in the Albany Entertainment Centre. It is a pretty serious venue. Early rehearsals had gone well. Dress rehearsal not so well. I, personally, was a mess and as a collective we misfired a bit. Didn’t bring the passion. We needed to step up for opening night.

bts_nic-duncan-088
On stage, pre-show, final words of encouragement (Pic: Nic Duncan)

I’d convinced a few personal VIPs to come both nights – all incredibly supportive individuals that have a special place in my heart. All a long way from contemporary dance devotees. There were some serious personal nerves, but I felt like I could do a solid job. The solo was the killer for me – to go too hard meant being too exhausted for the duet and “the angel” later in the show. There was no recovery time off stage after my solo. Not go hard enough and the solo lacked impact. It was a pretty fine line – the solo channelled anger and hate. Keeping a lid on that is not easy.

bts_nic-duncan-014
Backstage at the AEC (Pic: Nic Duncan)

The first night, up to the solo felt solid. I was concentrating well. Keeping in time. Keeping myself together. “The Sixty” was so imprinted on my mind and body now that it was ingrained in my muscle fibres. Intensely familiar and personal. There was a zone. I was in it.

bi_aec_nic-duncan-017
The Sixty – a beast (Pic: Nic Duncan)

The performance progressed, I hit the solo incredibly hard. I screamed, the tortured scream of a broken man. I contorted as my body broke apart. I collapsed in a sopping pool of sweat. Shattered. Chest heaving. I rose for the duet, making my way through the lifts as best I could while my quadriceps screamed at me for rest. Scott and I connected. We broke apart. I focussed on my role. My embodiment of hate and fear and terror.

bi_aec_nic-duncan-047
My solo – finding all the rage and pain from my life and expressing it on stage (Pic: Nic Duncan)

We hit the crescendo of the duet. A backwards hinge. During rehearsals it had been decided this part needed more action during the remount. We were to run backwards before quickly connecting and hinging backwards together. Annette had wanted us to be more “reckless”. Adrenalin surged through my body, dripping with sweat I came to the point that I ran backwards.

bi_aec_nic-duncan-087
The reckless double hinge (Pic: Nic Duncan)

I neglected to look back and relied on the fact that I had a highly skilled professional on the other side who would (should) connect and catch me. He always did in the rehearsals anyway. We brushed arms. I threw my head and body backwards. We flicked in to position. We held. My chest heaved. I squeezed my glutes and abs to effortlessly rise in to a standing position and walk into our next position. I fell. Slumping to the ground. Shit. There would be a note for this….

A little less man-love

We ran through notes of the performance the next night. Scott saved me the night before, scooping me up of the ground in a tender embrace. We paused. I walked off in to the next position and tried to forget about it. To move on. We covered it well, but it was not right. The rest of the show had been great – our returning performers had stepped up to a new level. Our new guys were incredible. There was a lot of excitement within the group to go better on the second night, but the duet needed to be perfect. Thankfully, we (I) had a final chance to make amends. We got our note on what to work on for tonight. I would try to not fall over. A little less man love.

img_20181015_222025_086
Notes

It was a big night for me. A front row filled with family and friends. There was a lot of nerves. My eldest brother had come along. Tony was a long way from his comfort zone attending and I felt a lot of internalised pressure to perform well. I felt like I couldn’t just be good tonight – I had to go to another level again. This of course, failed to recognise how far I’d come in the eighteen months since I decided to give dancing “a bit of a go” for the first project – but family, ego and emotion aren’t really logical things.

img_20181016_144721_059
Side stage

There was also my brother-in-law and good friend who had travelled from Perth just before flying out of the country to make the show. Mikey had attended the previous year’s show (and also Annette’s Creation of Now, which Jasmine had a large part in). He may be the “Manpack’s” greatest fan and is well known to the cast. His infectious enthusiasm and desire to understand the work has made him stand out amongst our impressive throng of groupies and admirers.

Mikey knew Sam wasn’t in the show. He knew rehearsals had gone well. He knew I was pumped up to perform again and he was surprised to hear that there had been changes to the show overall. We had breakfast together that morning, but I still hadn’t told Mikey I was now in the lead role. I was excited for the surprise to hit him – as it wouldn’t become apparent until just before the solo. There were a lot of things go through my head.

bts_nic-duncan-060
Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm (Pic: Nic Duncan)

Breathe, breathe
We were on to the second round of the Sixty and I realised I wasn’t breathing. My heart was pumping so hard I could hear it above the snare in the music. Adrenalin was reaching towards redline. I had gotten myself a little too wound up.

This wasn’t entirely unfamiliar to me. In some games of football and soccer, if it was too big an occasion and I got myself too lathered up, I would struggle to get “in” to the game. I would float through, not performing at the level I wanted. In those situations, I needed a reset. Either a long break or a big hit to the body. I careered through the rest of the Sixty, missing a beat, slightly out of time here, slightly fast there. Imperceivably to most in the audience, screamingly obvious to me. We lurched in to the second last group of sixty beats, a time to “break apart”. I bent my back, almost falling. I broke again, arching and driving my shoulders back. And again. I fell. On to my back. Fuck that hurt. I looked up and flipped myself to continue to dance. I think I was back in the zone now. I could hear the music again. Feel the timing. My head was back in the game. Just. I found my hit to the body.

bi_aec_nic-duncan-097
Me resting at the back while the Manpack hyperventilates (Pic: Nic Duncan)

The performance raced though time and space. The solo didn’t exhaust me this time. Scott and improved our duet. The reckless bend was just right. My body allowed me to unhinge. There was less man love. There were small moments of panic. Of adjustment. Of problem solving on the fly. I didn’t dance as well as I did the first night, but I fixed my mistakes better. Our duet was better the second night.

bi_aec_nic-duncan-084
Scott looks light, but is not. Here I am gracefully lowering his impressive bulk to the stage with my very strong legs and back (Pic: Nic Duncan)

And most importantly in a team sport – the rest of the cast were more solid the second night. As a group we had improved again. The young performers in A Light Shade of Red hit their straps too, shining and rising to another level. We joined them onstage for the finale, took our bows and danced on stage. We’d done it. Somehow.

bts_nic-duncan-041
What a team (Pic: Nic Duncan)

Final reflections
Community dance is incredible. The growth I’ve felt within myself is immeasurable. The bonds and friendships that develop priceless. I’ve been able to role model to my two young boys that men can dance and choked back tears during their stage debuts perform just a few weeks after our remount. I’ve been able to show to family and friends that dance is a lot different than they may think it is. Even if the appreciation is mainly on the physical requirements – a lot of those who came would never have come to a dance performance without a community connection.

This remount was a huge moment for me. Last time around was a leap out of comfort zone to discover I enjoyed dance. This time around was a nervous return to explore a new level. It was like SCUBA diving after learning to snorkel. There were serious moments of doubt. There was a strong feeling of being held by those around me. There was just incredible support from everyone–  James with his genuine words of support, Sym, Rob and Nic’s notes on my progression, all the other critical components that got this off the ground and me on the stage.  I refuse to list you all in an arbitrary shopping list – but these productions require many hands, many minds and many hearts.

The Manpack 2.0 was incredible. What a group of talented, well rounded, supportive and empathetic Aussie blokes who happened to do a bit of dancing. Everyone a brilliant person – everyone in their own way, critical to the success of this show the second time around.

bts_nic-duncan-054
The amazing A Light Shade of Red cast with the wisened (old) The Beauty Index Cast – and Annette (Pic: Nic Duncan)

Community dance has given me the chance to interact with some incredible professionals. Some incredible gracious, generous and genuine individuals who created an environment for me to step up and thrive. Sandi Woo was a reassuring force for me in both performances. We have come a long way since our first meet and greet and I would like to think I’ve stepped up the quality of our interactions since then. It was such a privilege to have had such a quality human being and seasoned professional support our cast through these two seasons. A talented champion.

bts_nic-duncan-007
Sandi Woo, keeping it serious in the high pressure zone back stage (Pic: Nic Duncan)

Pina Busch Fellowship Alumni Scott Elstermann. Our bro-love got a bit too much for everyone else by the end, but what a bloody talent. Seriously. My admiration (bordering on adulation) was not unusual – the ManPack were transfixed whenever Scott rehearsed with us. To have not just the honour to rehearse so closely was so special, let alone watch him perform. And personally, to actually have the chance to perform a duet alongside Scott is something I’ll never forget. I don’t know what Scott is going to achieve over the next few years, but I’ll watching. You should too.

0d1a7760
Scott (Pic: Nic Duncan)

Finally, the force that is Annette Carmichael. Annette has an amazing ability to turn everyday people in to performers. It is not about 15 minutes of fame – but an opportunity to expand their personal identity. It draws you in and allows you to grow. Annette convinced us that we were worthy of the audience’s gaze. She built us up to be ready to take on the challenge – and stepped back as we stepped up. Her ability to weave a special place of magic for everyday humans to do something extraordinary is unique. Denmark and rural WA is fortunate to have her.

44057275_1813560378762443_2057808982877143040_o
Annette found a way to turn a footy player in to a dancer. I still don’t know how (Pic: Alison Bennett-Taylor)

I love this project. It has given me far more than I feel that I have given it, as the returns were so great. From the mental health benefits from expanding my creative mind; to becoming part of a Manpack; to taking up a new challenge. The physical benefits. The new opportunities. The improvements and impacts for our family and my relationship. The joy of seeing two small boys take to the stage a few weeks after my own show – the original reason to jump off and be involved was to show my sons they too could dance if they wanted to.

2018-12-08 17.23.12
Jack performing a solo onstage

2018-12-08 17.11.02
Henrik onstage

This project has brought me so much and genuinely made my life better than it was. I owe this project. I owe Annette for believing in me to fulfill my role in it. There is no pressure or obligation to repay the debt, but a passion to ensure that others have the chance to challenge themselves and reap their own personal benefits.

The next chapter: Annette is seeking Two hundred women (!) to perform in her next dance performance called Chorus (Denmark, Albany, Mandurah, Bunbury, Perth and Ravensthorpe) Workshops will take place across the South of WA July – Dec 2019 leading to performances in March 2020. Don’t make excuses – if I can, anyone can. Email your interest at projects@annettecarmichael.com.au.

A beautiful and honouring documentary from Rob Castiglione from last time around:

We made the paper:

44748895_1825787317539749_274123401449177088_o

Another review:

https://www.seesawmag.com.au/news/youthful-exuberance-creates-a-future-from-the-past/

And the full show on Youtube:

 

Exploring your comfort zone: a thing of Beauty

I stared in to the night sky, allowing deep breaths to enter my lungs, fill me with energy and leave my body as clouds of steam. I stood still and strong in front of my family, my friends, my community. I felt their gaze on me, I enjoyed their attention, their focus. The lights slowly became brighter and our names became distorted. This night was the final night of The Beauty Index, a project I joined to get out of my comfort zone. What shocked me, as I watched another breath of steam rise above me, was how comfortable I felt.

Way back in December I attended a workshop that was a taster to becoming more involved in a men’s dance project. As I’d previously overcommitted in a car park (follow the link to my SeeSawMag interview) as an enthusiastic spouse at Annette Carmichael’s Creation of Now; I felt I had to rock up and see what this whole thing was about. I was terrified walking in to the Civic Centre. Some of the men here could already dance, already move well. I felt awkward and uncoordinated. Self-conscious and stiff. It isn’t like I never danced or moved – I loved mucking around at concerts and festivals, I was fit from running and football – but keeping in time and having awareness of my body? I was lost.

23131669_1421320744653077_6119423165360492104_n.jpg

I enjoyed the day, and felt like I should commit to the project – but this was not coming from a place of confidence. I was desperate to push my boundaries and get myself out of my comfort zone. I really wanted a new challenge, and the way I had felt on that first day – this whole “becoming a dancer” thing was going to be that challenge. When the call came out in April to put up or shut up – I dove in to the main group of the project. A group of men with varying physical abilities, fitness, age and experience.

What followed was months of rehearsals. There were times I questioned how wise this whole thing was. There were times we couldn’t walk in a straight line, or keep basic three pattern movements in time – how the hell were we going to be part of a big performance. We ground away, getting better every few weeks – before putting in some utter shit-show of a rehearsal that would have everyone, including Annette, second guessing us. Then, things would click, timing would improve. We developed a sense of ownership over the project and the process. We could do the rehearsals – now, could we perform it?

21993992_205722019967885_435708537200562091_o
Rehearsals – Photo courtesy of Nic Duncan

I had no performance experience – dance or otherwise before this project. In fact, my first time on a real stage was the Wednesday before the start of the Country Arts WA Regional Arts Summit when we had the chance to wander about ManPAC as part of our “bump-in”. We were in Mandurah to be the living, breathing proof of effective community engagement and were there to work alongside delegates to put on a show on the final day of the conference. It was invaluable experience – the bunkered in rehearsing for hours; the joy of sharing a house with five other men; the late night partying and frivolity of a world far from responsibility; the hangovers; and on the final day – getting on-stage in front of an audience to perform. It was unifying. It was exhilarating. It was the chrysalis of the ManPack.

5151685fa20925a9e6a6497da0099c41-1600x0-c-center.jpg
The ManPack performing at ManPAC – Photo Country Arts WA

Suddenly, we were back in Denmark and back with the wider group. Hard in to rehearsals. On site. Dealing with dancing on slippery clay in the rain when we’d spent months rehearsing on floorboards, in doors. I slipped and fell hard moving in a way I had previously had no second thoughts doing. I wasn’t hurt but I was rattled. We were in hoods for our costume. Another adjustment. The floor of the shed was high pressure hosed to get rid of the slippery clay. We were rehearsing under lights. Suddenly it was dress rehearsals. Suddenly – there was no more time. Suddenly, I was going to find out a lot more about my comfort zone.

22730063_10159690565265195_5464284716680891791_n
Our youngest member – shredding his solo on rehearsal

Our Tech Rehearsal night, from my own perspective, had been a debacle. I was late, or early, or just out of time. My body was not right. My back felt sore and I felt heavy and unstable. I went home in what at best could be described as a funk. At worst – abject terror. Had I not been driving a couple of fellow community dancers home that night – I would’ve burst in to tears. Had my windscreen not been so difficult to see out of, I would’ve still done in in front of them. Dress rehearsal came about and I was stressed. We had a handful of VIPs in to watch and this was a full run through. The stakes were much higher than ever before, even higher than Mandurah.

Dress rehearsal went ok. We weren’t great. We weren’t bad. I was ok. I felt the nerves that had rocked me the day before became slightly placated. Things were going to be different on opening night in front of 140 people – but at least I wasn’t about to burst in to tears. Hopefully. As a group we were happy with how it had gone – the mistakes that are inevitable in a performance weren’t big enough to cause trouble in the run – and the manner in which we either recovered from them, or covered them was a tribute to our preparation. I went home ready to take on the real thing the next night and ready to let the world see what we’d been playing around with for months.

23154953_10155868066519222_2840805341271818699_o
Our pros – Scott Elstermann and Sam le Breton Photo by Nic Duncan

Our first two nights of the season were fantastic. There was a buzz amongst us and a buzz in the crowd. People had come with a forgiving mindset and a careful curiosity – I mean, seriously, how well could a bunch of blokes from the community really dance? It was good of us for having a go. What no one had counted on was our desire to be more than a curiosity. We went for it both nights and put on solid performances. The buzz around town was fantastic. People were clamouring for extra tickets to the sold out Saturday night show. People willing to stand. People who had heard that we were actually pretty good. Even some of the art snobs who didn’t want to watch men plod around stage.

Beauty-Index_Nic-Duncan-207-websize_preview
Photo courtesy of Nic Duncan

Suddenly the final night was here. The night were this post began. We’d had our now traditional warm up to the Game of Thrones intro. We’d a brief sing-along of the Lion Sleeps Tonight. We mucked around in the dressing room together. We’d told a few more dodgy jokes, done our warm up games and had our hugs. There was a feeling that tonight was going to be a big one. I was feeling good. The aches and pains weren’t too bad. The energy in the group was great. Our unity was forged.

We hit that final night with another level of focus and intensity. Standing in front of my family, my friends and my community. Some of my family had travelled from Perth to come and watch. As I gazed out towards the moon, peaking out from behind the trees; just over the heads of the audience; I readied myself to go as hard as I could one last night for them. You have to meet commitment with commitment. I stood and enjoyed sensation, audited my body in my mind and relaxed.

That was the most amazing thing about this process – that moment of relaxation, of enjoyment, of comfort. At key moments in the show I had the chance to take in the audience, enjoy their gaze and attention. Make myself to take up more space and feel larger than I truly was. We were performing in an old saw mill – a huge industrial space, a place of masculinity, blood and sweat; where trees came to die. There was no fear of overwhelming the stage with presence. We had to fight for the audience’s attention over our setting – it challenged us to be bigger and demand more respect as our confidence grew in each show.

Beauty-Index_Nic-Duncan-180-websize_preview.jpeg
The hinge – Photo courtesy of Nic Duncan

After the second show, Annette asked me what I was going to do on the final night – what was going to come out in my performance. I think the both of us had been pretty shocked how far I’d come along in the process. I’d trusted her fully in preparing us to perform; and had unlocked part of myself along the way. That final night, as I challenged myself to go harder and harder through the show to take up more space, stretch further, embody the work more than the night before. I wanted to move with more air, more grace, more intensity, more purpose. I felt fantastic. I felt alive. I felt comfortable.

Beauty-Index_Nic-Duncan-285-websize_preview (1)
Photo courtesy of Nic Duncan

Sure, my dancing still has its moments; I’m very much untrained – but this project was about getting out of my comfort zone and trying something new. About putting my trust in others and seeing where it would lead. About giving part of myself to the creative process. About forcing myself to take in the gaze of an audience and enjoy it. I’d talked about taking a running leap from my comfort zone, away from running and football and taking the piss out of myself.

I had never expected to so comfortable on-stage (well, on-concrete). To feel so comfortable performing, especially in front of my community. To find a new comfort zone. One I never new existed. One I am so grateful to Annette, the crew and the ManPack for unearthing. One that I’m not keen to lose track of again. Now, I’m not packing my bags for WAAPA – but what I have done, is added dancer to my identity.

Beauty-Index_Nic-Duncan-216-websize_preview
Photo courtesy of Nic Duncan

The Manpack:

Leader, mentor and force of nature: Annette Carmichael http://annettecarmichael.com.au/Home/Home.html

Our Incredible Community Performers: Don Anderson, Adrian Baer, Brad  Black, Dennis Buffart, Alexander Grace, Carl Heslop, Alex  Pyke, Todd Anderson, Rick  Bentink, Emil Davey, The Mountain Nigel Levinson, Phillip G Light, Martin Sulkowski
Professional Performers: The incredibly gracious and supportive Scott Elstermann, the capoeira king Zak Launay, the quiet intensity of Sam Le Breton, and Peter Fares (research phase)

Epic sound designer: James Gentle

Design gurus: Kevin Draper and Indra Geidans

Costume designer, stage manager and general support legend: Symantha Parr

Lighting designer: Kevin Blyth http://www.allevents.net.au/AllEvents.html

Photographic genius: Nic Duncan www.nicduncan.com

Tear inducing filmographer: Rob Castiglione http://www.robcastiglione.com/

Producer and Jingle-jangle lookout: Sandi Woo https://sandiwoo.com.au/

Co-ordinator of everything: Anna Boaden

The Beauty Index is supported by Denmark Arts; the WA Government through Departments of Cultural Industries and Regional Development; Country Arts WA; the Australian Government through the Australia Council for the Arts and the Regional Arts Fund; Lotterywest.

20171105_142944.jpg
Monochromatic trees by Kevin Draper and Indra Geidens – photo Carl